


A Sinner Who's Probably Going to Sin Again

by why_didnt_i_get_any_soup



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Animal Death, Asexual Character, Asexual Relationship, Asexual Sam Winchester, Asexuality, F/M, Gen, Lawyer Sam Winchester, M/M, Monster of the Week, New Orleans, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-04-12
Packaged: 2018-03-22 13:57:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3731398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/why_didnt_i_get_any_soup/pseuds/why_didnt_i_get_any_soup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Castiel check out another case while in the Big Easy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Sinner Who's Probably Going to Sin Again

Sam would listen to St. Vincent—it's calming and soothing and a little weird, but in a good way. It always puts Castiel to sleep. _Every time_. Sam will see him start to slouch in his seat more and more until finally he can hear little snores coming from the passenger seat.

Mostly, Cas kept his little 3rd generation iPod in the center console, stocked with the latest Drake and Kendrick Lamar and just…whatever else is out in the rap and hip hop worlds—those are the only two Sam knew by name. He had no clue how Cas liked that stuff, but he genuinely did. He knew all the words and everything.

Sam quietly grabbed the little square, gray device and plugged in the auxiliary, pressing the buttons on the touch screen of the car to switch it from Bluetooth to aux. Flicking his eyes back and forth from the road to the circular scroll on the iPod until he found _Bitch Don't Kill My Vibe_. He kind of liked that song but felt a little bad about it, knowing Cas still kind of feel like a sinner. He cranked the volume and pressed play. " _I am a sinner, who's probably going to sin again_."

" _I can feel your energy from two planets away_." Cas muttered along, rubbing his eyes a little as he sat back up.

"We're almost there, Cas. Don't go falling asleep on me now."

Cas did nothing but grunt in reply.

"I just don't get how _my_ music puts you to sleep but this doesn't."

Cas just shrugged, noncommittal.

They were almost all the way across Lake Pontchartrain and Sam could feel his butt falling asleep and his legs cramping uncomfortably. He liked his Prius but no matter what he did, his body was just a little _too big_ for the compact car.

"What is this case about?" Cas finally croaks out.

"It's New Orleans. As far as I can tell, it's some wannabe voodoo junk." Sam shrugged, pulling off the interstate. "I gotta get a deposition from a girl named Eulalie _Gautreaux_ ," Sam struggled around the last name, "in the Lower Ninth."

Cas nodded solemnly—of course he knew about Hurricane Katrina, but it had been just before the angels finally walked the earth. Cas had spoken of it a few times during some of their trips to the magical little city.

"Did you find a case?" he asked, focusing back on their reasoning for being there.

"I think I found a werewolf case but it is a little hard to tell in a big city like this. We'll look into it after we talk to Eulalie, and maybe after some beignets too."

Sam maneuvered the little car on the unmaintained roads, scarcely populated, knowing that the two of them looked completely out of place in the majority black area. Pedestrians were certainly looking at them funny.

"Can you pull up Google maps on my phone?" Sam asked, handing the phone over to Cas, who had gotten much better at fiddling with technology since Dean's wedding. He needed to be able to use it or he wouldn't really have access to information in the same way he did when he was still an angel. The address for Eulalie Gautreaux's home was already typed in and Cas got it to start calling out directions to Sam in its mechanical little female voice.

They looped around and finally made their way to the front of a little yellow how that was bordered on one side by a painfully empty lot and on the other by a little white structure. The whole area, as far as they could and as far as they had seen on the way in, was flat and overgrown with yellow, weedy underbrush and twiggy trees in lots that were very obviously previously occupied by homes and families. It felt like a stab in the gut. Sam gripped the steering wheel tightly before putting it in park and turning it off, a fiery pit in his stomach making him determined to do right by this girl.

"I just don't see why you have to come all the way down here, still."

"I'm a litigator, Cas. It's what I do. It pays for _nice_ cars and _nice_ houses in _nice_ parts of Atlanta."

Cas harrumphed at Sam's mocking tone but didn't really comment.

"But to answer your earlier question, no, I didn't find a case down here. I thought this litigation actually sounds a little…witchy. I'll see what you think after we talk to Ms. Gautreau." Sam explained as he stretched his arms over his head and shook out the Charlie horses in his calves. Everything popped.

Cas tugged on his suit lapels, straightening it all out, and Sam couldn't help but smile, appreciating how nice Cas looked in the navy slim fit tailored to his waist.

"Sounds like a plan, Stan." Cas winked, looking like he knew he was corny for it.

The stairs creaked under the combined weight of the two men as the approached the front door, knocking three times and waiting patiently for it to swing open inwards.

A slender black girl, not much older than twenty or twenty-one answered in a camisole, no bra, and shorts. She said nothing, the sunlight glinting off her nose ring. Sam couldn't blame her for dressing so lightly—it was sweltering and muggy in the New Orleans summer.

"Are you Ms. Gautreaux?" Sam said, slapping on the practiced and most polite, southern lawyer voice he could muster.

"My last name is Gautreaux. Are you from the Leeser and Beckett firm?"

"That's us." Sam smiled winningly. "I'm Sam Winchester, and this is my partner, Cas." Sam stuck his hand out for her to shake.

"Eulalie." She replied tersely, shaking it once and dropping it.

Sam was determined to win her over. He almost always did with clients who didn't seem to like him at first.

Eulalie was already moving away from the front door and into the kitchen. She hadn't said anything but she left the door open so Sam and Cas followed her in.

"Y'all want some tea?" she asked, pouring some boiled water into a mug for herself.

"No, thank you." Sam said, pointedly looking to Cas to indicate that he should respond with the same answer.

"No, thank you." Cas echoed.

She shrugged her shoulders and it was impossible not to notice the two fleur-de-lis tattooed on each shoulder that were clearly visible because of the camisole. "Fine." She said and took her time fixing herself a cup.

Neither of the men sat at the kitchen table until Eulalie grunted and pointed for them to sit. Immediately, Sam moved into his spiel.

"As you know, we're here to collect a deposition from you. That is essentially an out-of-court statement from you telling—"

Eulalie cut him off. "I know what a _deposition_ is, Mr. Winchester." She glared him down, her eyes and nose stud flashing in the sunlight coming in from the window over the kitchen sink.

"All right, then." Sam cleared his throat and opened his briefcase to pull out the form. "Let's get started. Initial here if all of this information is correct." He gestured to the top of the form where her name and information was and proffered a fountain pen. She snatched it initialed in the places Sam had indicated.

"Excellent. Now I need you to tell me exactly what the complaint is. And again, it's filled against a Verusha Evans?" Sam stumbled on the other woman's name.

"Is that the name of that bitch next door?" Eulalie asked haughtily.

"Uh," Sam was feeling more and more awkward by the second,  "That is the name of your next door neighbor, yes." He confirmed.

"Yeah, well she been leaving dead cats on my property." Eulalie sniffed, leaning on the chair next to Sam's.

Sam didn't bother looking over to Castiel for a reaction to that. He knew exactly what his surprised face would look like. Instead, he commenced writing in the space provided on the paper.

"Is that your only complaint?" Sam wanted to confirm.

"Legally, yeah. I mean, she's _weird_. It's unholy, if you ask me." Eulalie reached for the charm she had on a chain around her neck; it was a gold crucifix and that was the first time Sam noticed it. It made his gaze flick over to Cas. If only Eulalie knew how justified and simultaneously unjustified her faith was. Sam's stomach turned over.

"Well, be that as it may, the only legal thing we can do is figure out the legal boundary between the two properties which will involve both deeds and possibly some verification with City Planning."

"Did you really have to come all the way down here from Atlanta just for this?"

Sam was caught off guard.

"Well, depositions have to be handwritten and done in person. I'm technically your lawyer on this case. I was called in by a friend of my firm to work on this case. It seems you know some pretty powerful people, Ms. Gautreaux."

" _Gautreaux_." Eulalie corrected him, finessing the pronunciation with an accent.

"Apologies." Sam nodded, not even bothering to try and say it again. He would get it wrong.

"Well, what next?" she moved away from the table to lean back against the kitchen counter.

"We have to determine if Ms. Evans has legal counsel and if she would be willing to make a statement. Perhaps we can get this settled out of court since it's a relatively minor offense—"

"Minor offense?" Eulalie interrupted again. "She's leaving dead cats in my yard? Can't I do something about animal cruelty?"

"Well, we'd have to take her to court for that. Louisiana laws are a bit different, but down here she could get up to five years in jail and or a fine of five thousand dollars. Unless we get a confession from her, there isn't much we can do since the evidence is circumstantial. Have you physically seen her leaving the carcasses on your property?" Sam turned in his seat to look at her.

"Well, no…" Eulalie bit her lip and it was the first time Sam had seen anything other than hostility on her face.

"We'll go talk to her." Sam had the urge to reach out and comfort her. He had a lump in his throat thinking about the girl next door. She had to be a witch or, at most, an amateur hoodoopractitioner.  "That is, if there's nothing else you'd like to add."

Eulalie shook her head but now she looked as nervous as ever.

"Well, we'll be back in contact with you tomorrow and let you know where we stand. If we can get a confession from her, you pretty much don't have to worry about this case anymore. The state of Louisiana will take care of the rest as far as 'animal cruelty' laws go."

Eulalie nodded and showed them to the door.

Outside, back in the muggy New Orleans air, Cas and Sam hovered by the Prius, Sam actually leaning on it.

"So what do you think? Sound witchy at all to you?"

"Well, if I were a witch I think this would be a pretty good place to be." Cas answered, his voice a little rough from disuse.

"That's what I'm thinking."

"So, if we go talk to her, what exactly would we be looking for?" Cas squinted in the sunlight. They hadn't really worked any witch cases since Dean left

"Well, we'll be looking for a Book of Shadows. You know, a grimoire," Sam shrugged, going over the signs in his mind, "Also basically any ingredients that look to be ritualistic. Things with runes on them, incense, skulls or bones from small animals, sometimes blood stored in refrigerators. Just suspicious stuff. It's like porn; you'll know it when you see it."

Cas's eyes went a little wide and he looked distinctly uncomfortable at the mention of porn.

"Sorry," Sam apologized, laughing, "Come on." He started walking towards the other house, no car in front. He became a little worried that she was not home.

Silently, the two of them waited on the front porch after Sam rang the bell. It took longer than was comfortable for footsteps to sound behind the door but finally the door flew open. A harried and frizzy-haired brunette girl with no shoes on answered the door. She had bags under her eyes and her skin was sallow.

"Oh god, please tell me you aren't the FBI or something." She stammered out.

It took Sam a bit by surprise; it had been a few years since he'd falsely identified himself to anyone as an FBI agent.

"No, no. We're lawyers. In fact, are you Ms. Evans?"

"Who's asking?" she squinted up at him.

"I'm Sam Winchester—" it was the third time Sam was interrupted in the past hour.

"That name sounds familiar. Wasn't there, like, a serial killer or something with the same name a few years back? That's kind of an unfortunate coincidence."

"Right, well, anyway, we're with the Leeser and Beckett Firm. From Atlanta. We're representing Ms. Eulalie Gautreaux."

"Oh god," the girl's eyes went wide and frightened, "What did I do? Is she _suing_ me? Oh god, oh _god_."

Sam wanted to reach out and pat her on her shoulder but there was no place for that in professional settings.

"Are you Verusha Evans?" Sam tried to confirm, instead.

"Ah, uh, _yes_. I am." There was a look on her face as she bit her lower lip that told him she had considered lying before thinking better of it, "You can call me Rue. Come in." she retreated back into the house, her gait slow and defeated.

"Ms. Evans will work just fine."

"You know, that's not even really our last name. We changed it to fit in when my parents immigrated here. But it was Ivanov."

"All right," Sam said skeptically, crane his neck to look over his shoulder at Cas who was already darting his eyes around the house in search of any possibly witchy items. _Inconspicuous, Cas_.

"Do you have a lawyer, Ms. Evans?"

"I didn't even _know_ I was getting sued. I can't _afford_ to get sued." She wasn't looking at Sam, instead hovering inside the refrigerator door, intently searching for something she was not seeing.

"As it stands, Ms. Evans, you're not being sued. It's merely a property line dispute." He wanted to help her, he wanted to tell her he believed she wasn't really killing cats. He hoped it was another neighbor instead.

"All right," Sam shrugged, "well, do you have the deed to this house? That might come in handy as far as determining the property boundaries and if there's even a case here. We'll be looking at Ms. Gautreaux's deed too and testing the boundaries out. There's a police report. I don't know if you know that but we'll be getting a copy of that too to see where the animal remains were found in comparison to the boundaries. If the remains were on your property Ms. Gautreaux can't really do anything about it but the state of Louisiana can bring a case against you for animal abuse. Given the history of New Orleans, in particular…" Sam tugged at his collar just a little, afraid he was treading on thin ice with her if she really was a voodoo practitioner. He didn't want to tip her off. Fortunately, Cas was actually looking very blank faced and stony, giving away nothing. "The laws are pretty… _rigid_ concerning that sort of thing."

Rue's eyes were tight, the anxiety and bags under her eyes crushing her beneath an insurmountable heaviness.

"This is just adding to the pile, isn't it?" Sam guessed, finally letting his comforting instinct set in; he placed his hand on her shoulder. She didn't meet his eyes, just nodded heavily.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Wouldn't that get me in legal trouble or something, talking to the prosecution's lawyer?"

"It'll all be off the record," Sam flicked his eyes up to Castiel who already had started to soften, "You don't look like you have many people to lend an ear to you."

"Yeah, my family is all back in Long Island." She pulled out a chair at her kitchen table and sank down into it. There was a dying plant as the centerpiece in the middle; it felt oddly appropriate for the poor girl's situation.

"Long Island? What are you doing down here?"

Her lips pulled back in a wry smile that didn't show her teeth. "I wanted to study art at Loyola."

"Are you a Jesuit?"

Rue looked taken aback. "Goodness no. I'm _Russian_."

Sam didn't really know what that meant. He had very little experience with Russians. "I see." He nodded.

"We're usually Russian Orthodox or, you know, _spiritual_ …" she trailed off, wagging her fingers like she was mimicking casting a spell. That made Sam uneasy.

"Which are you?" Cas spoke up.

Rue smiled, small but genuine this time. "I guess spiritual. I mean…that's how my family is. It might even be what's got me in this mess in the first place."

"What does that mean?" Sam cut in.

"Oh, you know. I don't know. It just felt like the right thing to say." She diverted her eyes, looking to the window above the kitchen sink. It felt almost like déjà vu, the house was so similar to Eulalie's; the sun was even shining on her face in a way that twinged so familiarly.

"Cas knows all about that, actually…" Sam caught Castiel's eye and gave him a meaningful look. "I have to use the restroom, if that's okay?"

"Yeah, just down the hall and to the left! There are only two rooms down there anyway." She kind of laughed, self-deprecating, really.

"Thanks." Sam nodded curtly and scampered toward the hallway, thankfully out of sight of the kitchen, looking awkward for his size as he heard Castiel start up about Christianity.

Making sure to hear Rue engage, he snuck into her bedroom. True to form, there were only two rooms in the back of the house. It was an incredibly small house. It was highly unlikely if he didn't find anything in her room that she had anywhere else to hide things.

Her room was expectedly messy. Mostly just dirty clothes—so much more underwear than Sam really felt comfortable looking at—and paper. It looked like school papers, weighed down by text books or shoved in between the pages of other books. There weren't any shrines, her closet wasn't filled with chicken blood or incense, no hex bag ingredients were lying around. The room was just a room of a messy college student. A lot like what Sam's looked like when he was in college.

He searched around through a few of her desk drawers and opened a few books, just to make sure. He found just school work and a few sketches. Nothing interesting. Then, he finally saw it, just a slightly yellowed piece of white paper with Cyrillic characters on it tacked to the wall next to the desk. He didn't know what it said but he took a quick picture of it before tiptoeing back across the hall to the bathroom to flush the toilet and make a loud exit as if he'd been in the bathroom the whole time.

"Your soap smells nice." Sam interrupted, cutting Cas off in the middle of what looked like a rapturous sentence. Rue looked a bit startled.

"Er, thanks." Her eyebrows knitted together.

"I think we ought  to get going now, though. We're really just here for the deposition."

"Oh, okay. What does that mean?" She stood up as Cas got up from the table.

"It's basically just a signed statement from our client. Which we already got. We may or may not be back later, depending on how the rest of the case goes."

"Okay. Well, thanks." Her face fell. Sam wondered just how good their religious conversation had gone.

"Uh, if you need to call us," Sam said, stopping to open his briefcase, "here's my information." He pulled out a business card and wrote his cell number on the back, trying his best not to look like Patrick Bateman as he handed it to her.

It was technically legal to give advice to people represented by opposing legal counsel, though his firm might have found it a little _unsavory_. Sam had _killed_ people; he wasn't really afraid of what other people found unsavory.

"Thanks!" she called to their backs as they made their ways out the front door.  Sam waved over his shoulder and made a beeline for his powder blue hybrid car. The two men tucked themselves into the tiny cabin and Sam punched in the hotel address before taking off towards the Big Easy.

The hotel was only a few blocks from the French Quarter and right on Canal Street. The parked in the complimentary garage and checked in, settling into their tiny room, all before 7 PM.

"Beignets?" Cas croaked, not even lifting his head from his twin sized bed.

"I think maybe we should check out the werewolf case, actually." Sam was clicking on his laptop, trying to get the damn thing to connect to the cursed hotel internet. "I better not have to pay fifteen dollars for some damn internet." He growled, mostly to himself.

"Want to find the nearest McDonald's?" Cas laughed, throwing an arm over his eyes in a long suffering gesture.

"That's not a bad idea," Sam muttered, "I can get some sweet tea while I'm at it."

"I was making _a joke_ , Sam."

Sam snorted a laugh. "Yeah, I know. But sometimes you're unintentionally brilliant."

"What do you mean _'sometimes?_ '" Cas finally sat up, and Sam knew why he loved him, why they lived together; it was small moments like that.

"Are you saying you're unintentionally brilliant none of the time?"

"You know what I mean, you ass." Cas searched for a second and found a pillow to fling across the room, aiming right for Sam's head.

"We can try to knock this werewolf case out and be back in time for some fresh midnight beignets. How about that?"

"How much do you actually have on this case?"

"I'm not sure. That's why we have to go to McDonald's." Sam didn't look up from the computer, just groped for the pillow and flung it back in Cas' general direction. It must have hit because Cas let out a put-upon _oof_.

"Let's just go." Cas huffed, defeated. "The sooner the better."

…

"Believe it or not, this might actually be an easy case, Cas. This werewolf isn't covering their tracks too well. Granted, they keep going after tourists so their location might be kind of hard to pin down exactly. But it seems to be all around the Rock and Bowl…"

"So, we should go down there and act like the tourists we are and see if we can lure in a werewolf?" Cas muttered, eyes shifting around the McDonald's that was mostly full of homeless people in various states of shagginess. They weren't really paying attention to the other patrons.

"Sounds like our most likely plan. Did you bring any touristy clothes?"

"Are you talking about khakis and a Hawaiian shirt?" Cas said sarcastically. That was one thing Sam was very glad Cas finally picked up.

"Actually, we could probably just go down to any old store and buy some shitty looking t-shirts. That should do the trick."

"But do you really think a werewolf is gonna take a chance on a tree like you?"

"I guess we'll just have to… _wing it_."

"Are you kidding me, Winchester?" Cas punched Sam right in the bicep, getting the muscle good and causing it to twinge a little.

"Damn, Cas, that actually hurt."

"I know." Cas looked smug, rubbing his nails on his dress shirt as if he'd just been manicuring them.

…

After circling the parking lot of the Rock and Bowl for over an hour, they finally snagged a spot from someone who was already waiting for the person to back out. Sam knew it was rightly belonged to the other car and they were pretty mad but they backed off pretty quickly when they saw how big Sam was as he unfolded himself from the tiny Prius. He kind of felt bad, but y'know, _lives were at stake_.

Sam had managed to snag a Sun's out, guns out shirt printed with obnoxious neon lettering and Cas picked up a relatively tasteful Marie Laveau t-shirt.

"Are we sure this is the best plan?" Cas said, tugging at the snug collar around his neck.

"No, but it doesn't seem like there are really any other leads. I'm honestly surprised at how many people are still coming here, even with how many deaths there have been just within the last month."

"No kidding," Cas muttered, checking his pants pocket for the silver dagger there. He didn't really have any space to conceal a pistol. Sam, on the other hand, had a gray hoodie over his douche bag shirt and had a Smith and Wesson fully loaded with silver bullets tucked into the pocket. "I don't like being a sitting duck."

"Cas, you've been a sitting duck plenty of times. We can handle one werewolf."

They milled about outside, not getting in the line to go inside. Maybe ten years ago, Sam would have felt awkward for that kind of loitering but he was a fucking lawyer and he had no more shame. They decide to walk down to the Popeye's across the street, casually and loudly discussing UFO conspiracies. In all their time as hunters and paranormal investigators, they'd never actually encountered real aliens but Sam honestly enjoyed its kitschy American southwest appeal. They thought maybe their topic of conversation might single them out as weird tourists.

"You know there are some pretty interesting ghost stories around here, too. Not sure how true any of them are." Sam pointed out as they waited for the crosswalk, the balmy air almost smothering them.

"Oh, yeah?" Cas raised his eyebrows, imploring Sam to elaborate.

"Oh yeah."

They ordered some chicken strips and onion rings, deciding to split a sweet tea, and settled at a table by the window, watching other tourists and locals walk by. Sam had to stuff his face a little before starting his story.

"I had this book when I was younger, so I don't remember all of the details but it was something like this. And he went into detail, embellishing his story with a little of his own imagination.

Cas snorted, clearly finding it funny.

They got weird looks from the employees behind the counter as they left, hiking back to the Rock and Bowl, where it appeared that everything was in order still.

"You know, I've always loved the south. No snow, sweet tea. This is the life." He gestured to the Popeye's cup he finished off and tossed into a trashcan on the corner, speaking loudly so he'd be overheard. But, the thing was, he meant it. Cas nodded solemnly in accordance.

"I like it down here, too," he squinted up at the night sky, not too visible through the Spanish moss dangling from the branches of old Oak trees, "I've really grown accustomed to the sweet tea."

Sam elbowed Cas in the ribs and they made their way towards the car to loiter some more, just in case their werewolf showed up.

"Do you maybe want to actually bowl?" Cas said after a while, his hands fidgeting.

Sam shrugged. "I'd love to but you see that line. We'd probably never get a lane before the place closes. Which I think is at two AM."

"Yeah, I guess you're right." Cas looked a little disappointed but didn't say anything else.

They lapsed into silence.

"Hey, boys," a low female voice called at them from the shadows and they turned to see a blonde woman leering at them, "you look a little lost. The French Quarter is thata-way." She pointed a finger with a red fingernail in a direction over their shoulder.

"Well, we wanted to bowl." Sam said, trying to make his voice sound unsure.

"This place? It's a dump. I know where you can have a good time. Want to follow me, boys?"

The two exchanged looks, one they hoped the girl would interpret as deliberation but was actually meant to convey they suspected her of werewolfism. Cas shrugged and Sam nodded.

"All right. Sounds good." Sam answered for the both of them.

"Great! You can just leave your car here. It's a short walk." She smiled and winked and they followed her, down the road, towards the dark and away from the Popeye's. Not a good sign for regular folks, but a great sign for hunters.

She started asking questions—where they were from, how they'd liked New Orleans so far—but didn't answer any about herself, just smiled and asked more questions. She was so fucking suspicious, it was incredible.

"Why are we going into a graveyard?" Cas squinted at her and Sam tried his best not to snicker at that.

"It's just a shortcut." she assured, opening the gate.

For two hunters, graveyards were one of their comfort zones, but this was a New Orleans graveyard—everything was above ground in crypts and mausoleums, easy to get lost in, easy to hide from the eyes of passersby.

 Almost like Sam had predicted the future, the woman stopped in the middle of the graveyard, between two white marble crypts and grinned at them ferociously. Her teeth were jagged and her eyes, from what they could see in the darkness, were a yellowy-green color. Werewolf.

"It's a real shame. You boys are so cute." She said around the large teeth.

Sam laughed, not a real laugh, one that contained all the bitterness of every time he'd had to kill a good person who was a werewolf. All the times he'd encountered ones that couldn't control themselves. And he remembered Madison, having to shoot her right in the heart when he was only 24 years old and a little in love. It wasn't even a full moon and Sam hadn't exactly expected it be a werewolf, though all the crime detail rang of the creature, but they didn't take place during full moons. She was clearly an alpha, choosing to prey on humans who were at their most vulnerable. And that made him ache for every person who had wanted a cure.

"It is a shame." He admitted. And before the girl could get another word in, Sam had his gun that was loaded with silver bullets drawn and fired right through her heart. She collapsed with her eyes wide eye, still twitching; she was dead but still warm. The boys watched as her teeth receded and her eyes changed to their usual human color.

"We gonna bury her?" Cas asked, having not lifted a finger for this kill.

"There isn't really anywhere to bury her. We never touched her. No one at the Rock and Bowl could positively identify her or us. I think we need to just leave her here. New Orleans is a big city. They'll sort it out."

Cas nodded silently and they briskly walked back to their car. They were in a residential area. Someone was bound to have heard the gunshot.

…

Café Du Monde was empty when they finally got there, changed out of their weird muscle tees and into regular clothes, looking like completely different people from when they were loitering in the Rock and Bowl parking lot.

They gazed over at Jackson Square, watching the fortune tellers ensnaring the occasional passersby, casting long shadows over the courtyard. But the beignets were so warm and gooey, better than they ever were during the day when there was a line formed just to get a table. It was balmy outside, almost a little too humid but they both drank their café au laits in pleasant silence, reveling in the feeling of a job well done. Or at least a job more easily done.

The wind rustled Sam's hair and he chuckled a little when he saw that Cas had a powdered sugar mustache. He was in love; with these small moments, with the night, with the breeze, and with Cas.

They paid their tab with cash, leaving a hefty tip for the waitress working the night shift, thankful to be done with their case.

"Want to take a walk?" Cas asked as they exited the little covered café. Sam nodded, warmth growing in his stomach. And maybe not just from the coffee.

They crossed the parking lot and walked over the train tracks, down a large wooden stair case that over-looked the Mississippi. There were a few other people sitting on the steps and a silver man sitting at the top. They avoided eye contact entirely with him. They sat down, side by side, their knees almost knocking, watching the lights twinkling off the dirty brown water of the river.

"Sam…" Cas' rough voice broke their silence of listening to the waves crashing against the riverbed.

"Yes?" Sam looked at him in the darkness, imagining a heavenly spark in his eyes. Cas didn't say another word, just moved his face towards Sam's, planting a light kiss on Sam's lips, just to test the water.

"Cas…" Sam started and Cas' face fell, clearly waiting for the inevitable rejection. Sam wiped his lips on his shirt, just a little uncomfortable with the spit still on his lips just from the small peck.

"I get it, Sam. You don't feel the same—"

"No." Sam interrupted. "Cas, I, uh, I love you. But I guess you just need to know…I'm asexual so I'm really not going to want to have sex with you. I probably won't even really want to kiss you that much either."

"Oh." Cas' eyes were big like saucers in the darkness.

"I mean, we live together, you know?" Sam clarified. "I always kind of assumed we were together…you know, kind of in a taciturn way. Isn't that why we live together?"

"Oh." Cas nodded, looking down at his hands in his lap. "Can I hold your hand, then?"

Sam laughed, light and nearly lost in the wind coming off the river. "Yeah." He nodded, smiling brightly. Cas didn't waste any time reaching out and twining his fingers with Sam's.

They sat there that way for a while, enjoying the whooshing of the water and the warmth like a blanket around them.

"This is nice." Cas informed him, resting his head on Sam's shoulder.

"Yeah, it is." Sam agreed, resting his head on top of Cas'. "I'm glad we finally talked about it." There were a few boats with distant lights drifting by and neither of them noticed if any of the other people on the stairway were looking at them. It didn't matter.

"Me too."

…

The next morning, they got a call from Eulalie. Sam sat up in the bed they decided to share and listened to the message she had left, putting it on speaker phone.

"Um," she started, "I'll be dropping the charges against my neighbor. I don't know if there's some paperwork I need to do for that or anything. I guess I can sign anything if you guys are still in town."

Cas nodded, still tangled up in the covers.

"We'll get breakfast on the way." Sam decided, already moving to put his work clothes on, Cas following suit.

…

They had finished their McMuffins by the time they pulled up in Eulalie's driveway. They knocked on the door and heard Eulalie's voice squeak from the other side, calling "just a minute." They heard footsteps rushing around before finally coming to the door, having just pulled on a robe when she finally pulled it open to let them in. She seemed flustered and she didn't have her nose ring. Sam felt a flash of guilt, wishing he'd called ahead but he had assumed the voicemail she had left was an invitation over if they caught it soon enough after she'd left it.

"I wasn't expecting you boys so soon…" she explained, ushering them into her kitchen where she had some water boiling and some eggs frying on the stove. "Would you like something to eat?" she offered.

"No, thank you. We ate before we came here." Sam informed her.

"Some tea, then." She didn't actually wait for them to agree or disagree, just went about getting them mugs and putting the sugar and milk on the table, tacitly telling them to sit. They obliged and fixed themselves their tea when she had offered them several different kinds of teas from boxes in her spice cabinet.

Sam was just pulling out some of the paperwork, including what had been signed the previous day when they were interrupted by a small pattering of feet from the hall way. Verusha Evans, the next door neighbor, poked her head around the corner.

"Are there people here?" She asked Eulalie, her hair dripping from a shower.

"Rue, you'll want to put on some clothes." Eulalie informed her, not meeting her eyes.

"Right." Verusha blushed before ducking back around the corner.

Sam and Cas made eye contact, clearly making assumptions about what had happened.

"Is there a particular reason that you've decided to drop the case?" Sam asked, his voice a little squeakier than he would have liked.

"Ah, uh, yes…" Eulalie trailed off, biting her lip as she sat down with her own cup of tea. "Me and Ms. Evans…uh…reconciled last night. She came over to talk and things…got a bit complicated."

"I understand." Sam cleared his throat and passed some things over towards Eulalie, explaining what they were and where to sign. She did as she was told, silently.

"You will still owe the firm a consultation fee since it never went to court and we didn't have the chance to fight on your behalf."

"I understand." She nodded, signing the last few things.

Then, Verusha came back in, awkwardly tugging on the clothes they'd seen her wearing the previous day. This time, Sam and Cas didn't even bother to make eye contact.

"Thank you for being so understanding." She said, moving towards the paperwork, trying to look it over.

"It's perfectly fine." Sam smiled at her.

"Would you like some biskvit before you go?" Verusha looked between Sam and Cas. "It's a Russian sponge cake." She clarified. Cas looked eager so Sam said sure. She moved to the refrigerator and pulled out a covered cake, navigating around the small kitchen and cutting a large slice for them and whispering over it, nearly inaudibly, before wrapping it in cellophane.

"It's a zagavory," Eulalie explained before anyone could ask, "A Russian folk spell."

"It's for good luck." Verusha explained, handing the cake to Cas. "For being so kind to me and Eulalie."

"It was our pleasure." Sam stood up, all of the paperwork safely tucked back into his briefcase. He shook both of their hands and the two girls walked Sam and Cas to the door. "Please, call me if you need anything." Sam advised. They nodded.

"I think we should come to New Orleans more often." Cas said once they'd gotten into the car, fiddling with Sam's phone. He'd put on St. Vincent.

"I think you're right." Sam smiled and took Cas' hand.


End file.
